


What's Mine Is Yours

by falsteloj



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 04:25:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9701294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsteloj/pseuds/falsteloj
Summary: When someone else monopolizes Ed's attention, Oswald gets jealous and marks his territory.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Nygmobblepot Valentine Exchange 2017 fic for [nygmobblespot](https://nygmobblespot.tumblr.com/). I had great fun writing this, thank you so much for the lovely prompt! <3

Being the elected Mayor of Gotham came with plenty of perks.

Respect, name recognition, a place in history - even the official, authorized kind.

It also had its low points. Boredom, begging letters, and the interminable, unbearable, fundraising dinners being among them.

They were always the same. The same faces, the same dismal conversation. He had little patience for it, and no time for making old men feel better about themselves. He had done enough of that with Falcone and Maroni, and before even, always being expected to dance to somebody else’s tune.

The truth was that he couldn’t care less about golf, or changes to city planning policy.

What he did care about was the councilman currently monopolizing Ed’s attention.

Oswald watched them talk, nodding vaguely for the benefit of the committee chair at his own elbow. He glared at the too familiar hand the man placed on Ed’s arm, and at the way he flirted as though Ed were available.

As though Ed would ever look twice at an idiot like that, all style and no substance.

Because Ed was a professional, had taken to the world of politics like a duck to water, and rarely let on the reality of what he was thinking when his time could be better used in subtle manipulation. Oswald could see that he was uncomfortable, all the same. He had devoted hour upon hour to learning the barely there variances of Ed’s expressions and their meanings.

It was up to him, then, to go over and put a stop to this.

“You two seem engrossed,” he said at the first available juncture, as falsely pleasant as he was able. The man paled all the same, because his temper, his _reputation_ , was notorious, and it pleased him more than it should, to see his rival back down with so little resistance.

It helped that Ed smirked at him, too knowing, and Oswald put his own hand on Ed’s arm, as though his touch could leave a visible brand. A warning to anyone who might consider attempting to take Ed away from him.

He wished they could go home, truly, but it would raise eyebrows.

Invite people to ask awkward questions.

Instead he dutifully sat through the dull meal and the duller conversation. Occasionally nodded politely for the benefit of his neighbor but kept catching Ed’s gaze across the table. Watched intently as Ed spoke with his own neighbors, all easy smile over the rim of his wine glass.

Possessive jealousy stabbed through him,dark and terrifying, but Ed chose that moment to look in his direction. To smile, just slightly, the hint of color in his cheeks complimenting the glint in his eyes that told of what was to come later.

Oswald saw now how Ed wanted to play it.

He maintained eye contact as he sipped at his own wine. Spent far longer than was necessary licking clean his dessert spoon, just to savor the moment when Ed’s composure slipped, and the woman sat on his right had to ask the same question three times before he answered her.

Two could play at that game.

* * *

By the time the meal was over - the coffee served and the customary chit-chat endured - Ed was looking, to the trained eye, at least, positively distracted. He couldn’t stop his gaze wandering, nor the flush streaking all across his impossibly perfect cheekbones.

Oswald thrilled to know he was the cause of it.

Sat ever so slightly too close in the back of the limo and made airy conversation with his driver, all the better to enjoy the way Ed squirmed and shifted. To appreciate the way his breathing grew shallow and unsteady, the result of the fingers he let drift up the length of Ed’s thigh, hidden underneath the overcoat he was holding.

He enjoyed it all the more when Ed’s hand found his wrist, grip tight and desperate to halt its progress as a frustrated, bit back noise filled the air.

Oswald smirked. Carried on stroking his thumb against Ed’s inner thigh, so very very close to its intended destination, until the car stopped. He planned to pull back then, but Ed had other ideas.

Kept hold of his wrist and pulled him along impatiently the second he was on his feet. Through the hallway and up the grand staircase, his determination never faltering. His silence never wavering, not until the door to their bedroom was safely closed and Ed’s mouth was on his, both hands coming up to cup his face as he kissed him.

“That was very devious of you,” Ed murmured when he finally pulled back a little, eyes dark and lips kiss swollen.

Oswald found himself breathless, lost in the way Ed was looking at him.

“You deserved it.”

“Were you jealous?”

The question was posed without judgment and Oswald made no attempt to pretend that he hadn’t been. Of course he had. He wanted everyone to know that Ed was his, couldn’t bear the thought of another's touch on him.

It made his blood boil.

Ed understood. Bent his head to whisper into his ear,

“You’ve no need to be.”

Ed kissed him then. Took his hand and trailed fingers across the skin of his wrist, the touch sending shivers through him for all its chasteness.

It still had the power to amaze him sometimes. To leave him breathless with wonder that this was his life. That Ed was really there, really wanted to share it with him. His partner in work, in love, in everything.

Ed slid his jacket off his shoulders. Worked his tie undone and pulled the silk free from his collar. He could scarcely draw enough breath, felt as though his entire body was aflame, willingly giving away his control of the situation.

He wouldn’t do it with anyone else. Would never be able to trust enough to lay himself so bare in front of them.

“Nobody could compare,” Ed whispered solemnly. “Nobody could ever come close, not now. You have to know that.”

Ed sank to his knees, hot breath caressing him through the fabric of his dress pants. It was so good, too good, and Oswald had to move things to the bed lest things be over before they had even started.

It felt more intimate somehow, the sheets blissfully cool against his overheated skin and Ed's touch reverent on his bad knee. Oswald pressed as close as he could, their kiss growing frantic as clothes were removed and hands allowed to wander. He dropped his head to the crook of Ed’s neck, inhaling the enticing scent of his cologne.

Needed more, needed it now, and ran his nose along Ed's neck, before repeating the journey with his lips. Followed the same path again with his tongue, because the neck had always been Ed's weak spot, and he gasped so beautifully when Oswald started to worry at the pale skin. When he sucked at the flesh, Ed spurring him on with the soft noises he made, and the hands that clutched him closer.

Usually they were careful, very aware of outward appearances. Tonight he didn’t care. Wanted to ensure that there was no way Ed could cover the mark he was raising. He wanted Ed to know how desperately he loved him.

How very much he meant to him.

“I couldn’t do this without you. Any of it. You made it all possible.”

Ed took his hand and kissed it.

“I love you.”

His heart clenched, the words just as affecting as the first time Ed had spoken them. He had to kiss Ed again, all slick heat, before moving to his neck, his chest, his stomach.

Got Ed to turn over and repeated his slow exploration. The skin of his shoulder, the curve of his spine. The soft flesh of his thighs and the swell of his buttocks. Moved between them. Lost himself in the warmth, in the helpless whimpers Ed couldn’t stifle.

It made him feel truly powerful to see Ed like this. To see that great intellect reduced to want. To know that he, Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, was the cause of it. That it was his touch, his mouth, that had Ed writhing and gasping. Begging and pleading.

“Please,” Ed gasped when his slick fingers pressed between them, and in that moment Oswald couldn't have denied him anything. Forced his movements to stay slow and careful for as long as he was able, until Ed was pushing back into his touch, voice wrecked and limbs trembling. His own hands were shaking when he finally gave in, so desperately hard, so desperately close, it was never going to last long.

Not when he was so far gone, so helplessly enamored of the gorgeous man in front of him. 

They clung tight in the aftermath, all soft eyes and dumb smiles, even as Oswald stroked his fingers over the bruise which would sit well above Ed's shirt collar.

“Do you mind?” He asked, a sudden flash of fear piercing the haze of contentment. The ugly worry that Ed might change his mind about their relationship.

Ed just took his hand and linked their fingers. Kissed him all over again, sweet and tender, and said finally,

“I'm yours, Oswald. I don't care who knows it.”

The concern melted away. Left him so happy he scarcely knew what to do with himself.

It might not have been an easy road to get here but, he thought, curling still closer, it had been so very worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


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